Cargo
by SamanthaRose
Summary: Sixteen of them walked together in a line, making their way slowly through the red earth in Horde Lands. Their master led them then, but when they broke away, each one of them had the chance to live their own lives...
1. In the Case of One Named Rani

In the Case of One Named Rani

They were all led in a line. A single file, straight line, leading up the dusty, sunbaked road. A rope held them all together, and the master walked at their head.

Behind and beside them, the pack Kodo's trudged, nearly bogged down with the burden they carried.

They were treasured creatures, too good to bear the burden of human cargo... That was why they walked. The Thousand Needles was blisteringly hot, and there seemed no end to it. They seemed to walk forever.

"Keep your heads down and keep walking!" The master yelled, his voice shrill and grating. "If you can't bear this part of Kalimdor, you'll never survive the Flats, OR Tanaris! Keep moving, slugs!"

They trudged forward, oldest to youngest, the higher ranking slaves at the back making sure the youngest did not fall behind or fall down. If they fell, they would be dragged up and forced onward again, no healing for their wounds and no water to keep them from parching.

They spared no brutality for those in the lead... Those were simply beaten and dragged behind, whether they were on their feet or not. The ones who died on the way were left to rot. Left to the hyenas and the vultures.

Through the whole ordeal, not one of them had even a fleeting thought of fighting back... At that age, and growing to the ages they were alone, they didn't know what free will meant. Always begging strangers, not knowing how to live, they accepted this as their written fate and walked on.

A foot fell to the red earth and chased up clouds of dust... tired eyes cried silent tears that tracked through the dust that settled on sunburned cheeks...

Those tears mixed with the red earth and resembled blood. As they walked, they all cried tears of blood...

Rani sat up with a gasp, throwing the blanket off of herself and scrambling to her feet. She rushed from the room she slept in and into the room opposite. The fetid water in the washtup didn't deter her from scooping up a double handful of it and throwing it into her face.

Wash away the blood... wash away the blood... water was life, water was healing. After she had scrubbed her face pink and nearly raw, she hurried back into her sleeping room and snatched up a water skin. Tilting her head back, she drank the contents without a breath until it was empty...

Then she tossed the empty skin aside and hugged her knees to herself, shaking her head to rid it of the images.

That time was long gone... long, long gone.

"Why do you think such things, Rani?" She asked herself. "It's not fair to think such things. Thinking on them will only make the dreams worse." She tried not to smell the filth and the stench of the desert. She tried not to smell the reek of death that clung to them when they reached the desert city of Gadgetzan.

Shuddering long and hard, she got to her feet and hurriedly dressed herself, moving to the door and looking out.

The day was the same as any other. Sweeping her raven hair behind her ear, the young human pushed the door open and rushed out into the brightly lit streets of Stormwind. Stormwind was far away from the hellish place she had been taken to when she was only five years old. That hell... the place where she was raised, where she was told...

This is your home. This is your life. You have no free will and you will not speak. You are a possession and you will do as you are told. No one cares about you, no one knows you're alive...

You are part of us now, and you belong to us.

And she had listened obediently to every word they said. She was led into the desert, and her strength failed. She made it to Gadgetzan, but didn't stay long.

No... she was one of the first ones to go.

"Lady Rani!" A voice called, and up beside her ran a small child with sunny blonde hair and curious brown eyes. One of the orphans... She smiled fondly and crouched down.

"Ah, there you are. I've been wondering where you've been these past few days." She said affectionatly as she took his hands in hers. The little boy grinned and beamed.

"I was fishing!" He chirped happily, and Rani laughed.

"Good, good!" She squeezed his hands and stood, leading him to the bridge she was to cross to go to the Cathedral. When they reached the steps, the little hand in hers slipped away,and she looked down.

"I'll only be a moment." She promised, kissing his forehead. "You go and play." He nodded in understanding and rushed off with a wave. Rani felt the smile slip from her face and sighed heavilly, looking up at the Cathedral.

"Forgive me, for I have sinned." She whispered, slipping the hood of her robes up and ascending the stairs. She knew they would be waiting for her... She only hoped this time there wouldn't have to be blood on her robes, so she wouldn't have to try and explain to the orphans...

Or to anyone else who might have looked.

"Now... time to do business." She strode into the Cathedral, seeing a few of the monks immediatly rush forward to stop her.

"You're not welcome here!" One of them cried. "Why do they let you remain in the city! You're a menace!"

She calmly held her hand out to him and smiled.

"Listen to me." She said in a level voice, her features still smooth. "We all want to live, don't we? In order to live, we have to have a commander. So long as you continue to give into her, she will continue to protect this Fortress you call home." She turned her eyes to him and continued on her way, all the way up to the High Priestess' seat. The woman didn't stand as usual, sitting and staring down at her lap. She trembled... she looked thinner than usual.

Rani frowned.

"Stand up and act properly, Lady." She hissed, shaking her head. "You and I have business to discuss."

"You cannot leech anything more from us." the Priestess gasped. "You cannot force us to..."

"Would you like her brood to come here? Would you like them to come and feed? On you... on the townsfolk? On the Orphans?" Rani's gaze was unwavering.

"Stand up and give me what I require, and you're safe for another month. Is that too much to ask?"

The High Priestess simply shook her head, standing slowly.

"We have what you require..."

"Good. In order to keep the same thing that happened last time from happening again, I need you to give me what I require."

Rani's voice was smooth, void of emotion, and the High Priestess could not help the tears streaming down her cheeks.

"You are too young! This is not fair! Not right!" She gasped.

"In order for the Lady to keep her veil of protection over this city, I need you to give me what I require."

Rani would not be swayed...

"There is no veil of protection! There is only corruption! She is leeching the Alliance dry from the inside out! You are nothing but a possession to her!"

Rani's eyes widened, and for a moment, her cool mask broke. She took a breath and smoothed her features down, lifting her chin.

"In order for the Lady..." She began again, her eyes widening once more as blood splashed the High Priestess' face.

She had been used to pain...

Pain was nothing new to her...

But this pain came as a surprise. It centered around the middle of her body and burned like fire through her veins. Blood trickled past her lips and cold began to creep over her limbs as the fire fled away.

Blood trickled from her nose as the blade in her body withdrew, letting her slump slowly forward to the ground. She lay for a moment, then heard the soft sound of plate mail as someone knelt down beside her, a gentle hand laying on her shoulder.

"You have been a prisoner all your life." His voice murmured. "You are not a prisoner anymore."

As she lay dying, a smile touched her lips. Tears of blood flowed from her eyes as the man who had killed her whispered to her... freedom...


	2. In the Case of One Named Scarlet

In the Case of One Named Scarlet

The air was cooler by the ocean, and the small house on the shore was high enough that the Murlocs didn't bother them. Still, it was sometimes nice to take a walk along the beach, soaking up the sweet smelling sea air.

Dierae wandered along the beach, her face turned towards her horizon and a smile on her lips. She walked with her feet in the water, ankle deep, enjoying the feeling of the sea breeze on her skin. She wore light robes that night, her thoughts rather care free...

There was little to worry about here on Longshore. They were far enough away from everything, visitors were infrequent, but it was still a short horse ride away from Sentinal Hill in case they needed anything. She and her husband had lived there a long time... She didn't know if she would ever care for life away from this beautiful place.

Sighing gently, the human woman turned and faced the horizon fully, smiling softly. The water felt nice, and her mind was clear. The wind was warm, the water was warmer.

Dierae didn't expect what happened that night, which was probably why it scarred her so terribly. She didn't see the woman in the sand, didn't hear her dragging herself closer. She must have been distracted by the waves and the simplicity of her own thoughts, because she didn't hear the whimpering or the woman's heavy breath.

She was aware of nothing until the woman grabbed her ankle tightly.

Looking down after screaming, Dierae stared wide eyed. The woman looked up with startled green eyes, her filthy face ridden with pain.

"Help... me..." She gasped.

Ismael startled when his wife tore up the hill screaming his name. He dropped the axe he had been using to cut firewood and ran down the hill towards her, catching her arms and making her stop.

"Love, what is it?" He smoothed down the human woman's hair, his glowing eyes full of concern.

"Ismael! A woman! A woman down on the beach, for the love of Elune, come quickly!" Dierae gasped. Ismael shook his head and stared down.

"A woman? Dierae, what.. Why didn't you bring her back?" His wife was strong, having been a warrior before coming to relax and enjoy life here.

"She's pregnant! From the looks of it, ready to give birth any time! I can't carry her, Ismael, you need to help her!"

Without another question, Ismael took on his travel form and raced down the hill towards the beach.

The woman was still conscious when they managed to get her back to the house, staring around wide eyed. She was covered in filth, sand and sea water, her red hair matted. Dierae rushed to get a washcloth and some warm water to clean the woman up, Ismael making sure she was alright.

"What is your name?" He asked softly, rummaging in a drawer for some of Dierae's old robes to offer the woman.

The woman looked at him and blinked, realizing he was speaking to her. She flushed and smiled fondly.

"This one's name is Scarlet."

It took Ismael a long time to answer, anger and pity flowing through his veins like ice. A hard lump settled in his throat and he swallowed past it several times. Dierae came back into the room with the water, beginning to wash the filth from Scarlet's face. She paused after a moment, when Scarlet winced, then her eyes widened.

"Not all of this is dirt." She murmured to Ismael, turning to look at him. "She's bruised."

"She was a slave." Ismael was surprised that the voice was his own.

Scarlet sat and regarded them both with something akin to wide eyed innocence. It made Ismael feel sick inside.

"Scarlet's master was dragged away. She tried to find him, yes she did. Then Scarlet found woman on the beach. "Help me!" Scarlet said!" The pregnant woman blurted, trying to break the silence. Dierae stared at her in horror, and Ismael shook his head.

"Scarlet... let Dierae clean you up. I'll find you some clothes. Are you hungry?" The Druid asked slowly. Scarlet nodded.

"Yes... Scarlet hasn't eaten since the night master was dragged away. He cooked something and ate. Then he went to sleep and didn't wake up. Scarlet stayed with him till the Murlocs came, then she ran. She ran and ran... she fell down, and woman found her." She gestured to Dierae, who flushed and looked away. After a moment, Dierae continued cleaning Scarlet up a little, standing slowly.

"What do we do about your hair... it's so beautiful." She sighed and lifted a matted lock of hair that was befitting of the woman's name.

"If you need to, you can cut this one's hair. Master liked it long." Her cheeks colored as she spoke of her master, and Dierae began to feel as ill as Ismael. "Master wouldn't let Scarlet cut it, but if you need to, you can cut this one's hair."

Dierae escaped to the kitchen after a few moments, and found Ismael sitting in a chair, staring out the window, towards the beach.

"Ismael?"

He didn't turn to her right away, and when he did, his pale purple cheeks were streaked with tears. Dierae rushed to him and wrapped her arms around him, and he held her tightly to him.

"She won't last three days with us, Dierae." He whispered. "She won't..."

"I know... but let's make her last days a little more comfortable. We have to do all we can for her." Dierae said in return. Ismael nodded, taking a deep breath.

"I almost wish the murlocs had spared the bastard that did this to her." He growled. "Because I would gladly have dragged him off myself."

Ismael wasn't far off in his observation... Dierae did her best to take care of Scarlet the next few days, making her comfortable and making sure she was well. Ismael made himself scarce, and Dierae knew that after this was over, neither of them would be the same.

Scarlet remained happy, recounting tales of what she had gone through while still with her master...

Dierae determined that "master" had been an orc, and the reason they weren't in Orgrimmar anymore was because Scarlet was with child, and a half orc would never be accepted. She said her baby was "tainted" and it was enough to bring Dierae to tears.

It didn't hurt as much, however, as the day Dierae entered the room where Scarlet slept to find the woman not in her bed. A strange odor hung in the air... metallic and sickly sweet.

Dierae recognized it immediatly as blood. She set the tray she held down slowly on the bedside table, stepping into the room.

"Scarlet?" She called softly. The sound of soft humming came from the back of the room, and Dierae felt her heart thundering. She stepped closer to the small washroom at the back of the room, putting a hand over her mouth. A crimson pool extended just out the door, and a pale foot lay in it. When Dierae got closer, she sat Scarlet sitting with her back against the wall, in the pool of blood, something small cradled in her arms, wrapped in a towel.

"The baby..." Scarlet cooed. She was paler than before, but still managed a smile. Dierae kept her hand over her mouth, feeling very ill. Her eyes couldn't move away from that unmoving bundle in Scarlet's arms...

The baby had come. The baby was dead.

"Scarlet... is glad the baby came here. Glad the baby came here in peace. Dierae, Ismael... they will teach baby to live in peace." Scarlet laughed lightly, her head slumping to the side. Her eyes closed slowly and Dierae let out a muffled sob, collapsing to her knees. She reached out blindly and pulled the dead child from it's dead mother's arms, holding it close while the sobs kept coming.

Her eyes squeezed closed, she cried out her husband's name, clutching the child to her chest.

"Oh Scarlet... if only... if only you knew... the baby won't grow in peace! The baby will not know this life, because the baby's dead!" She screamed, suddenly feeling angry. "The baby is dead! It's..." She looked down , not noticing as Ismael entered the room. He cursed and rushed forward, falling to his knees beside Scarlet's body. With gentle hands, he lay the woman on her back, not wanting to leave her in the position she had been in.

"A half orc..." Dierae murmured from behind him. "Oh... you would have been so beautiful." She stroked the child's cheek and wept still.

"Dierae..." Ismael's tone was terrible, and he didn't turn his head. "Something isn't right."

"It's dead, Ismael. The baby is dead." Dierae shook her head, and Ismael shook his.

"No... no, it's not that. No, the baby isn't... it isn't dead!" The Druid pulled the knife from his belt and Dierae gasped.

"Ismael! What are you doing!" She screamed, flying to her feet. Her husband grit his teeth and turned to her.

"The baby... the one inside her... it isn't dead!"

Blood spilled more as Ismael's blade cut away the dead woman's flesh. Dierae swayed and gripped the counter in shock...

Her husband had gone mad! He was completely out of his sense!

But in a moment, she heard a sudden cry, and swayed again, a choked noise escaping her throat.

"What..."

Ismael's hands brought forth a second child squirming and gasping to breath on it's own. It kicked it's tiny feet, balled up tiny fists and wailed with strong lungs. Ismael stared down at it, his blade severing the cord that tied it still to it's dead mother.

"Your cloak." He gasped. "Give me your cloak, Dierae." She took it off obediently, handing it to him. With bloody hands, he lay the baby in the cloak, wrapping him up so he wouldn't get cold. Dierae looked at the dead child and slowly lay it in it's mother's arms, not refusing when Ismael handed the living one to her tenderly.

Scarlet had been right... The baby would be raised here indeed... had the woman known there was a second child within her? Had she known in the seconds before her death that her first born was dead, too?

Swallowing hard and closing her eyes again, Dierae cradled this new child close to her, his cries and squirming making her feel more at ease.

"Dierae... what will we do with him?"

She looked over at Ismael and smiled fondly, tears streaming down her cheeks still.

Tears of regret... tears of loss... tears of joy.

"We raise him." She murmured, looking down at him. Delicately pointed ears, perfect facial structure, a fringe of black hair and a well formed body... there was nothing wrong with this child.

"He looks enough like an orc." She murmured. "When the time comes for the world to know him, they will think none the wiser."

"Until then?" Ismael asked again, moving to stand beside her.

"Until then, we give Scarlet a proper burial. Her other child too. Until then, we raise this baby as our own and cherish this gift that fate has given us." She took a corner of her cloak and wiped the blood from the baby's face. "And we will call you Falgrin."


	3. In the Case of One Named Faleen

In the Case of One Named Faleen

He was the Counter. Every step they walked, every mile that passed, everyone of them they lost along the way, the collective lashes they all endured...

Faleen counted them all.

He was the Seer. Everytime they stopped to rest and the master couldn't hear, he told them what would happen next, where they were going, who would join them and who would be the next to die.

Faleen was never wrong.

He was the Elder. The oldest among them, the strongest and wisest, but even he didn't know what it meant to live. Truly live...

Faleen vowed he would one day.

He was Fate. The Doomsayer.

As Scarlet lay dying in childbirth, Faleen was there, watching, and he knew it was too late. He knew that the second baby would live if someone only knew it was there.

As Rani was run through with the sword of the Shadowbreaker, Faleen was there, watching. Faleen beckoned to her, beckoned her forward even as the Shadowbreaker whispered her freedom.

They all knew Faleen.

They all remembered Faleen.

He was the one who refused to stay dead.

Squatting in his hut in Sen'jin village, a troll old beyond his actual years carved words into ancient wood with a wickedly curved dagger. He muttered to himself and rocked on his heels...

Watching, always watching.

His withered body was covered in scars and tattoos, all with one meaning or another.

His sightless eyes were covered by a strip of leather inscribed with voodoo scripture. His tusks had grown unevenly and jutted out at odd angles, and his long dark hair was pulled tightly back into a braid.

Faleen was still watching.

Always watching...

No one dared to enter his hut, sometimes stopping near the door to listen...

Seeing if the troll was still in a trance. Faleen seemed to always be in a trance.

It was because he was watching.

Counting.

Fortelling...

Sealing the fates of all those that walked through the red earth with him, in a long line, all of them crying tears of blood.

All of them had been watchers once. They watched when Faleen fell...

He had a headache... blood leaked from his ears that day, and he was very sick.

Faleen fell...

And the master beat him. When he was dragged behind Faleen stopped moving.

So they untied him and moved on. They left Faleen behind.

A week later...

Faleen was there with them again, as if nothing had happened.

It was then that the master did the unthinkable.

He let Faleen go.

Now, Faleen sat alone in his hut and continued to watch them... Watch them wither away despite newfound strength.

And Faleen wept tears, not of blood this time...

Real tears.


	4. In the Case of One Named Tethys

In the Case of One Named Tethys

Standing over the gleaming headstone, he wept tears of loss.

Real tears...

He knelt down slowly, the heavy mail he wore making a soft noise.

Before the tomb, he placed a single rose... a symbol of both love and peace.

"You are not a possession." He whispered. "You are not a possession anymore. Why could you not have seen? Rani..."

The young warrior said no more, straightening again as he remembered the way the woman had moved, the way she would speak when she thought no one was there. She had been less than a possession at the end... she had been little more than a machine.

She didn't even seem human anymore.

And he regretted it, but he had been the one to ask Lord Grayson to free her. It was too late.

She was unsaveable by any other means but death.

"Tethys." Grayson's voice was soft, and the hand on his shoulder gentle. "It's time to go." Tethys nodded and slowly turned, his face like stone now, no more tears falling.

He wouldn't cry anymore.

"You did what you had to, Tethys."

"Why does it still have to hurt so much? Even after what she did... it hurt so much."

"You never told me how you knew her."

Tethys looked at his Lord and Trainer, a strange expression in his eyes. He was quiet for a moment, seemed to be lost in thought...

Grayson continued to lay his hand on the boy's shoulder, waiting for him to come back to the here and now.

Sometimes... memories could be comforting...

"What have you been doing?" Her voice was breathless and excited, and she clasped his hands eagerly. He beamed back at her, his green eyes shining.

"I've been training, I've become a paladin! And one day, I'm going to be a knight!" He replied. "Rani, what have you been doing?"

"I'm staying in the Keep, and I'm training as a soldier! The lady there has been taking good care of me. She says she has something special planned for me!" She hugged him tightly. "Ah, Tethys, I'm so glad we made it..."

He closed his eyes and returned the embrace, sighing gently.

Always, through the whole ordeal, she had been like a sister to him... now that it was over, now that they were here all those long years later, he wondered if he was wrong in looking at her as something more.

"Maybe we'll end up fighting together." He said hopefully. Rani giggled.

"Maybe... you should come to the Keep, Tethys! The Lady is so nice, I know you'd like working for her!" Her face glowed with excitement and pride... Tethys had never seen her so happy.

He managed a smile and shook his head.

"I'll stay with Lord Grayson." He murmured. "He's given me everything I could need in life."

She nodded and beamed more, her eyes telling him that was good enough for her.

"Then maybe we'll get to fight together anyway, Tethys!" She chirped happily.

Years passed...

Memories remained.

Wounds opened...

And refused to heal.

Tethys watched her recede into tortured darkness with every passing week and was helpless to do more than pray.

His heart wanted to hold on... But he knew he had to move forward.

Memories hurt...

Sometimes, memories opened more wounds than could be endured.

So Tethys found someone new, someone that dulled the pain and made him feel wanted again. She filled that gap that had formed within him, and slowly chased the hurtful memories from his mind.

Till that day...

"Tethys! Tethys, wake up!"

The presence of Lord Grayson was enough to force the exhausted young man to his feet, despite the fact that he had managed to get very few hours of sleep. He straightened and was suprised when Grayson seized his arms, shaking him.

"Something terrible has happened at the Cathedral, Tethys! It's Cora... Tethys, I'm so so sorry."

All the words numbed him... The words made him cold from within.

Tethys' feet carried him quickly to the cathedral, and he didn't have to go far inside to find what had happened. The sight of her blood, of her pale face so still in eternal slumber... It made his blood begin to seethe.

"Who did this?" He demanded. Rage that never should have belonged to one his age crowded his mind, and by the simple words the High Priestess spoke, he knew just who had been responsible for this...

It was then he asked Lord Grayson to free her.

"Tethys."

Memories faded.

Daylight appeared.

Tethys returned to himself.

Blinking, he looked at Grayson and put his hand over the other man's on his shoulder.

"We met when we were children, she and I." He murmured, the scent of the air and the scorching heat of the sun blazing fresh in his mind still. "We were once friends."

"She killed your lover... was it out of jealousy?" Grayson asked softly. Tethys shook his head.

"She didn't have it in her to feel jealous anymore. She did it because she could, and she didn't know any better. She did it because her mistress said to. She did it as the misguided soul she became. She did it because all she's ever known is slavery." He swallowed hard.

Maybe he was making excuses for her.

He didn't know.

Memories refused to die... Like love so often did.


	5. In the Case of One Named Faely

In the Case of One Named Faely

They whispered of how she had barely survived the trip across the water, her roots so firmly planted in the ground, she didn't know how to live without the earth nearby.

She came to them quiet, and that was how Faely remained.

She remained quiet through the long journey through the plains and deserts, and when they shared whispered stories around the fire at night, Faely never spoke a word.

Faely was not strong, Faely did not appear to be the smartest of creatures, but when the sun would rise in the morning, they heard Faely singing.

She sang like a bird, they said, and not even the master could complain.

Like a dove, Faely hauntingly sang the sunrise, every morning. The songs would soothe them and at the same time, drive them on.

They called her Faely of the Mourning.

Faely was loved, Faely was cherished... Faely never fell down, not once.

But one morning, just before they reached their destination, Faely disappeared into the strange mist that hung over the white sands of Tanaris.

Master demanded at first that they searched, but as soon as it was said, it was retracted. He did not want any others to be lost in the mist...

They moved on...

But Faely of the Mourning never left their minds, and every morning it got harder to drag themselves onwards.

The trail carried her quickly back, back away from the hot sands. It carried her back across the waste, back into the red earth in Horde Lands.

Faely ran without stop, four gleaming paws closing the distance between her and the presence of the Druid's in the Thousand Needles.

Little Faely cried out to them, and they answered, told her they would wait... All she knew was that they were druids.

She did not know that they were considered the enemy.

Pala stood near the outpost, his gaze turned towards the Flats, his stance never wavering. The Druid's ears twitched, testing sounds that he heard, trying to sort certain sounds out of them.

For several days, he slept only the bare minimum her could get away with, always returning to the foot of the post to wait.

When asked, he said a child was crying, and he was waiting for it.

None of them expected what was to happen the day a small black panther made it's way up the path, not a sound being made.

Pala strode forward, heavy hooves drawing up dust, pausing before the tiny creature. It made not a sound, though it's eyes were full of pain, sadness and fear.

"I am here." He whispered. It didn't seem to understand, but Pala would not be swayed. "It is alright. I am here."

To Pala's great shock, the tiny panther became not a Tauren... but an elf.

She stared up at him, filthy and ragged, and Pala's heart swelled. It didn't matter that she was an elf, she was in need. Reaching down, he scooped the tiny Elf up in his arms, cradling her close. Turning away from the post, Pala began to walk.

Faely was silent all through the day, allt hrough the night, but when Morning came, Pala stopped.

Because Faely had woken again, and Faely sang...

Pala listened to her, singing sweetly, still cradled in his arms, and a smile crossed his face.

"What is your name?" He murmured, nudging her with his muzzle gently, and she crooned, nuzzling him in return.

She still didn't speak, but she didn't seem to mind the attention he showed her. She was tiny and sweet, affectionate and attentive.

But her wordlessness nearly disturbed him.

Perhaps she had never learned how to speak...

The young druid smiled, and the young elf smiled in return...

"Sir!" the soldier saluted, and his captain nodded in acknowledgement. "The encampment is near. We can prepare to move in at your word."

"Good. These fools have grown too comfortable here.. .it is time to drive them out for good." The captain smiled, raising his crossbow. "Prepare yourselves! Get ready to charge!"

The battle quickly grew fierce, the human invaders rushing into the midst of the Tauren Village, battlecries singing through the air as bellows escaped the Tauren.

Most of them Druids, they tried to hold the humans back, trying to disarm and disable rather than deal death back to the murderers of their kin.

Alongside the lions and bears was a single black panther, sleek and impressive. She darted through the invaders' guard like lightning, easily striking them down.

When at last they realized they were overwhelmed, the tauren returned to their true Tauren form, then assumed travel form to retreat.

"Captain, look!"

The human captain turned where directed, his eyes widening in shock.

There... among the Tauren...

A single Nightelf. She paused for only a moment before assuming travel form herself, moving to join the rest of the Druid's.

"A traitor? or a hostage?" He murmured.

"Follow them sir?"

"No." The Captain shook his head, holding hip his hand. All the soldiers lowered their weapons, confused, and a murmur ran through the crowd. "We let them go. They won't return here."

The humans set up camp that night at the village site nonetheless, not willing to take any chances.

The Captain was startled awake at dawn by the sound of a dove singing.

It was haunting... mournful.

Slowly rising, he moved to the window and stared out, his heart thundering in his ears.

A dove was a bad warning here on the battlefield. A dove was an omen of death.

On the hill above the camp, an elf woman stood. It was not a dove singing, but the elf. It was the elf singing to the morning.

Quickly dressing, the captain hurried from his hut and stood for a moment, staring up the hill. The elf stopped singing, turned to stare at him with softly glowing eyes. She turned and disappeared over the other side of the hill, and feeling in a panic, the captain hurried after her.

She waited at the edge of the woods, her eyes half closed. The captain wet his lips and followed her as she walked into the woods.

He was well aware it could be a trap, but he didn't care. Something about her drew him in, and he was concerned still that she was being held hostage by the Tauren.

"Why do you come here." She asked as they paused by the river. Her accent was strange and very pronounced, her words halty as though she wasn't used to speaking.

"The tauren have invaded our land." His answer was simple, and seemed to infuriate the young elf.

"This land belongs not to you. This land belongs to the Earthmother." She replied. She moved away from him and he watched her scale a nearby tree, stepping closer to see her still.

"The land belonged to the Earthmother, now it belongs to man. We have mastered the creatures, dominated the land." He continued. "Man rules Azeroth now."

"No." Looking up, his eyes widened in shock.

"You belong to the Earthmother. You return to the Earthmother."

She released the arrow she had fit into her bow, and the captain jerked, lurching backwards. The arrow jutted neatly from his forehead, right between his eyes, and blood leaked slowly down his face.

His lips moved, tried to form words, but nothing came.

The elf girl continued to stare down at him, glowing eyes now cruel.

"You return to the Earthmother."

No one ever heard Faely speak... And if they did, they never lived to tell.

When they found the captain's body, stripped bare and left simply lying, a note was painted in fresh crimson on his chest. The note was gracefully written, but in the language of the Tauren, making it hard for them to decipher. A former scholar was among the soldiers, and he offered to make sense of it for them.

You belong to the Earthmother. Be returned to the Earthmother's embrace.

Signed,

Faely of the Mourning.

After that, they learned to fear and respect her. When they chose to fight, not one of them raised up arms against Faely of the Mourning.


	6. In the Case of Umbiel and Oberon

In the Case of Oberon and Umbiel

Northshire Abbey was burning...

The tenants rushed blindly, grabbing important belongings in an attempt to save them.

The Abbey was under attack.

The bellows of the massive orc warrior drowned ou tthe groaning of the beams of the Abbey as they collapsed, consumed by the flames that had been started by a troll mage nearby. The two were powerful...

The guards were falling quickly.

"Get the girls out!" The priestess screamed, and the monks scrambled to heed her orders. Panic gripped them...

The Horde was searching for something...

Whatever it was, it would not be given up so easily.

"We can't break through!" A guard cried hoarsly. "Run... RUN!"

"Wake up!" Londa could hear Chiino screaming, trying to drag herself from under the beams that had pinned her to the ground. The beams shifted at last, and Londa dragged herself free, scrambling to her feet. Her body ached and her robes were singed... but she was alive.

"Londa! Londa, she's dead!" Chiino sobbed, tugging on the arms of one of the other girls, trapped half beneath a pile of rubble. Londa took Chiino's arms and shook her roughly.

"Stop it... you'll be dead too if we don't go now." Dragging the other girl to her feet, Londa hurried to the window, looking out.

They were on the second floor, but breaking bones seemed better than burning to death.

"Chiino! Jump!" She cried, but the other girl shook her head, eyes wide. "You have to jump!"

"We can't leave her!"

"Chiino, there's no time!" Taking the dark haired girl's arms, Londa shook her again. "We have to jump, or we're going to die!"

"But... Londa!"

"Chiino, please." Londa's blue eyes stared into Chiino's dark ones and the younger girl caved.

"Alright, but... you go first!"

Nodding, Londa released Chiino's arms, looking over the window ledge. It wasn't so far... Edging herself out the window, Londa tucked her fair hair behind her ears with trembling hands.

"Here goes..."

Umbiel saw her on the window ledge and scowled, easily stunning the two guards before him. He slid his axe over his shoulder onto his back, rushing towards the burning Abbey.

"Cynara! Away!" He shouted. "I found Oberon!"

Cynara nodded and grinned, rushing forward herself, arcane magic erupting around her to beat back the alliance guards.

"Grab Oberon and run!" She shouted in return, and Umbiel nodded.

Londa took in a slow breath, closing her eyes and throwing herself forward from the window. As she fell, time seemed to slow down, and she braced herself for impact, expecting the seering pain of her bones breaking to come at any time.

But it didn't...

Instead, she felt herself land in someone's arms with a grunt, her eyes flying open.

Above her, Chiino screamed her name.

Looking up, Londa saw an orc, his brow furrowed in concern. She felt her eyes widen, and the orc set her gently on her feet, pulling her close and putting a hand over her mouth. His strong arm wrapped around her, pinning her arms at her sides.

"No struggle." He demanded in thickly accented common. "Oberon safe wit Umbiel."

Umbiel?

Londa stared at him, wide eyed and terrified, her breath heavy in her chest.

Chiino was still screaming... Northshire was still burning.

The edges of her vision grew blurry and her world went quickly black.

"Will we see each other again?" Oberon whispered softly as he lay nestled in Umbiel's arms. They had reached Gadgetzan at last...

The master had told them that they would be sold in the morning. They would be separated.

"I will make sure to try." Umbiel whispered back, stroking Oberon's long, pale hair. "I will worry..."

"We'll be okay. You're strong, you can fight. I'm small, I can hide. We'll survive just fine, Umbiel."

"I want to keep you." The whisper was soft and shy, and it put a smile on Oberon's face as they lay huddled there in the darkness.

"I wish you could." He was so tiny in the orc's arms, even though they were separated by only three years. Umbiel's strength made him feel... safe...

Londa opened her eyes slowly, a strange sense of calmness surrounding her. She remembered what had happened at the Abbey, and her heart leapt. But she DID feel safe...

"Oberon wake." A voice grumbled, and Londa turned slowly. Umbiel sat across from her, his face still adorned with a scowl. Shaking her head, Londa made a noise of distress.

"Who's Oberon?" She asked softly. Umbiel's face melted into something akin to sadness, and he pointed a thick finger at her. Londa shook her head again.

"No, I'm Londa."

"Oberon. Umbiel never forget Oberon. Londa is Oberon."

Londa stared at him for a long moment, shaking her head once more.

"How could I be? Oberon is a boy."

Umbiel gazed at her, then stood, moving over to her.

"Oberon need wash... Stand and follow to river." He demanded, though his voice was still soft. Londa stood and looked down.

Her robes were ruined.

"Alright."

Her heart thundered again as they moved down to the river, mostly because she did not want him to see her scars...

The scars were a part of the reason she always bathed alone at the Abbey. 

"What happened to your troll friend?" Londa asked softly. Umbiel bristled and scowled again.

"Cynara strong. Fight hard but guards fight too. Cynara be fine, we go back soon."

Cynara... Umbiel... Oberon...

They all sounded so familiar.

"Oberon wash. Umbiel get new robes, if Oberon will wear dem."

"I'll wear them." She felt oddly comfortable, though her heart still thundered. "Let me... um... could you... turn around?"

Umbiel blinked several times in confusion, but turned, sighing.

Londa slipped her robes off quietly, letting the silvery ruin of them fall to the ground before wading into the river. Her slender body shivered as she slipped into the cool water, her hands moving to her long pale hair to try and get some of the soot out. She had scratches and bruises on her legs from where the beams had fallen on her, scratches all up her ribs as well. She kept her eyes away from the scarring on her lower body, flushing dark and sighing.

Turning to look back towards where she had left Umbiel standing, Londa flushed more darkly and tried to cover herself, ducking further into the water.

"D-don't be rude!" She cried. Umbiel had been watching the entire time... His eyes held a soft light and a look of anguish marred his features.

"What dey do to Oberon?" He whimpered, looking away. "Oberon... changed."

"I'm n-not Oberon, for the last..."  
He shook his head and growled.

"Londa is Oberon. Londa has to remember. Londa knows Oberon. She knows. Londa knows Umbiel. She knows. Londa knows Cynara, she knows. Londa knows... Londa is Oberon."

His words and meaning were clear, but Londa could not bring herself to believe it.

"How could I be?" She whispered, staring down at the water. "I can't be... Oberon."

Ripples moved the surface of the water, and Londa raised her eyes to see the broad figure of Umbiel before her. She flushed again and opened her mouth to protest, but Umbiel gently pulled her close. Her bare body pressed against his and the orc let out a soft sigh.

"Oberon was sold. Sold fast, to priestess. Umbiel watched priestess take Oberon to tiny room... den dere was blood. And screaming. Den Umbiel was sold too."   
His hand crept up her back slowly, rough and trembling. It felt so... so good.

Londa leaned against him and closed her eyes, his voice calming her still.

"Umbiel wait thirteen years... den he see Priestess and follow to human lands. Umbiel knew... Oberon was dere."

Londa nodded a few times, her eyes still closed.

"Yes... yes, I remember, blood, screaming... then nothing after! Only... only scars, and dreams."

His rough hand trailed up and over her shoulder, rubbing her arm up and down a few times.

"Tiny breasts... and Londa has scars." His hand moved up her arm and across her collarbone, down and over her pale flesh to cup her brest gently.

Londa sucked in a breath sharply.

"I... I really was Oberon, wasn't I?" She whispered, putting her hand over his.

"Londa IS Oberon." Umbiel replied.

"Then how... why? was it because I was pretty? Why would they... change me?"

Umbiel shook his head slowly.

"Oberon not worry. Faleen will come. Faleen will help."

Faleen.

"He's alive, then?"

"Yes, very much alive. Faleen help Londa become Oberon again."  
Umbiel's hand was warm, and gentle. Londa closed her eyes slowly and leaned into him.

"How long will it take us to reach him?" She whispered.

"Long enough for Umbiel to teach Oberon Orcish again. Long enough for Umbiel and Oberon to sleep... in each other's arms again."

"I was hoping you'd say that." Londa smiled. "I could use some proper sleep. And... it's been a long time."

Umbiel smiled and rubbed her breast gently with his thumb, nuzzling her neck, inhaling her scent. She pressed herself closer to him with a sigh, warmth flooding through her.

"Umbiel has waited... thirteen years for Oberon." The orc murmured, his other hand tilting her chin up slowly so that she looked at him. "Oberon remembers Umbiel now..."

"And wishes he had remembered sooner." Londa nuzzled him back. "Because he has been missing out on so... so much."

Umbiel leaned down towards her with a smile, but suddenly stopped, his ears twitching.

"Hush." He hissed, and Londa nodded. "Dey come for us. We go." Taking her hand, he led her up the bank again, handing her a set of plain brown robes and hurrying to pack up their belongings.

"Must be quick... can't let dem have Oberon."

"R-right..."


	7. The Awakening

The Awakening

Cha'lin looked over at her older brother with a tusky grin, watching him scoop up one of the worn rocks on the beach, moving forward to join him as he called out fake orders.

"Ready? Fire cannons!" He shouted, throwing the rock towards the water and drawing his wooden sword. Cha'lin pulled out her little fishing knife, waving it in the air. "We be boarded, me hearties! Prepare to fight!"

"Back, pink-skins! Prepare to walk the plank!" She cried, both of them rushing into the water, laughing and squealing and splashing. The young troll looked again at her brother, Zindaka, beaming a smile at him as he shouted at the fake pirates they were "fighting."

They were alone here at this stretch of the beach, always alone no matter what day it was, how nice the weather was or how many boats were in the harbor. The reason for the beach being so empty was the small hut nearby that housed an ancient, constantly muttering troll man who was rumored to be a terrible witchdoctor. He had become somewhat of a boogey-man to the people of her village, but she and her brother weren't afraid.

They played here often, and sometimes saw the troll moving about the hut, the leather strap over his eyes, mixing potions or hanging herbs to dry, so they knew that he was just an old, blind man and not a witchdoctor at all.

It was their secret, though... this beach was theirs.

"TIDAL WAVE!" Zindaka suddenly shouted, Cha'lin gasping in shock. They both turned and hurried towards the shore, the fake wave plowing over them and knocking them to the sand. She followed her brother's lead... it was their favorite game, Trolls and Pirates!

Once the tidal wave had passed, both of them lay coughing and spluttering on the sand, Cha'lin reaching out her hand to her brother.

"Don't forget... I buried me treasure... twelve steps from the old tree." She croaked, flopping onto her back. Zindaka let out a howl and hurried to her side, clutching her hand.

"Oh no! Oh no! Not me first mate!" He shouted. "I'll never forgive you, never! Ye bleedin' pirate, ye killed me first mate!"

They both collapsed into giggles, Cha'lin looking up when a shadow fell over her, following her brother's startled gaze.

For a moment, they were completely still, completely silent, staring up at the tall, hunched figure above them. For a long moment, they stared, then Cha'lin felt her brother's hand creep out towards her, reaching out to take it in her own.

"Don' be frigh'ened." The voice was barely above a whisper, hoarse from disuse, and Cha'lin bit her lip to keep back a whimper. "Ah'm no' he'a' ta hu'choo..."

"Y-you... you're the old man from that hut?" Zindaka asked in a small voice, Cha'lin moving a little closer to him.

"Ah yah." The old troll nodded, crouching down slightly so he was more on level with them. He reached out a hand and touched Zindaka's face, then moved the same hand to Cha'lin's nodding again. "Yo' youn'lin's." He growled, Cha'lin making a noise of distress. "Choo kin he'p an o'd man."

"H-help?"

"Ah yah." The old troll stood once more, his bones creaking slightly, and the two children paused a moment before doing the same. "Ah need some t'in's from my hut. Ah be needin' some he'p carryin' dem."

Zindaka and Cha'lin exchanged looks, then the girl nodded at her brother, who spoke.

"What do you need?"

He sent them off to gather robes and potions, bags and supplies, telling them to meet him back down at the beach, and they didn't think twice before scurrying away from him, towards the hut. When they returned from the place that smelled of dust, magic and herbs, arms laden with all the potions they could carry, bags full of herbs, a few sets of robes and other clothing, they found him standing at the water's edge, staring out at the water with his sightless eyes. He tilted his head to the side at their approach, gesturing for them to come closer to him.

Cha'lin set her heavy pack down in the sand beside him, trying not to flinch when he reached out and took the robes from her, offering her a smile. It made him look rather crazy, and probably didn't have the effect he had hoped, seeing as the girl backed away a few steps. He slid the robes already around his shoulders off, setting the clean ones on the sand gingerly before moving towards the water.

"De'a' be a green potion... vureh green, a'mos' hu'ts da eyes." He said to the young boy, who made a soft noise. There was the clinking of bottles as he searched, then he pressed a bottle into the old man's hands. "Dat's da righ' one, Ah be t'ankin' choo." He pulled the stopper from the bottle, then paused, taking in the bitter scent of the contents. "Dis no' be pretteh... choo migh' no' wanna be watchin' dis."

"... will you be alright, sir?" The girl asked, the old troll chuckling.

"Jus' fine... bettah, even." He growled, then downed the contents of the bottle with a soft grunt.

It took a few minutes to start, but when it did, Cha'lin did indeed find herself turning away, hiding her face in her brother's shoulder. The age seemed to be stripping away from the old troll... the scars and tattoos became clearer against darker, less washed out purple skin. His dark hair lost the streaks of silver and he coughed...

That old troll coughed and coughed as he crouched in the water, coughed up something that splashed into the waves below, coughed until she thought he would die from not breathing. When at last it seemed like he would never stop, the troll straightened again in the water, muscles rippling beneath the skin of his long limbs, tusks still jutting out at odd angles and his skin shining with sweat.

He sucked in a deep breath, let it out as a sigh...

And began to laugh.


End file.
